


Pining for a ghost

by ChocoKat



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, POV Catra (She-Ra), She-Ra Spoilers, She-ra - Freeform, spop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23641915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoKat/pseuds/ChocoKat
Summary: Catra thinks about her life, up to this point.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Catra/She-Ra (She-Ra)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Pining for a ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so! Haven't really used this account in a while. But thought it might be fun to post a (very short, sorry) drabble I did. 
> 
> Feedback is very appreciated! Requests could be nice too.

The Fright Zone has always been this way. Loud, the kind that droned in the background no matter the noise at present, ringing in one’s ears like a cruel misophonia gone supernova. Soldiers of different ranks and ages traverse the halls of the hive mind that is the Horde, working as one sole unit to take down the dastardly princesses that plague the land with their disgustingly effeminate sparkles and speeches of friendship and hope. At night? There is an ecosystem that lurks beneath the surface of the sickly green light that illuminates the barren wasteland. A ripple in the fabric of reality, stirred barely by the slow breaths of fellow cadets. 

Catra can almost pretend things are normal. Almost. The pillow still reeks of her scent, still slashed through with haphazard niches she can fit the tips of her claws into perfectly, as though she had just done it yesterday. She lies with her legs curled, hip inclined inward, tail flicking over the surface of the bedsheets with gentle fwips. She realizes not the furrow of her brow, given that is her typical expression, the default when bestowed with a life where one must constantly be on their toes. Mismatched sclera stare at the wall, covered in more gouges from her nails. Much like her, they are gray and cold. Not in physicality, but in spirit. Catra is tired. 

But cannot sleep. Not with the memories of what once was tickling the outer edges of her nostrils like featherlight motes. She raises her head, eyeing the pillow a moment. Self-indulgence is discouraged, as the Horde has never taken into account their comfort, only the bare minimum. Catra knows that-- everyone does. Well, except-- no. That name burns. Catra bares her teeth. She hates the way her heart twinges at that, the near slip. 

She mourns that girl as though she has died; and perhaps in her eyes, that shining version of her best friend, the one she came to trust with her very life, had. Or maybe she never cared.

Maybe Adora was just a placeholder for something she never had before. A relationship. Someone that cared, even marginally at that, for Catra’s wellbeing. Who would be sad, if she fell in battle. If that is the case… then why does it hurt so badly? 

It is utterly ridiculous that she should be so stuck in the past, when everything moving forward is so much more important. Taking over the land of Etheria would be her greatest achievement. She would prove them, prove Adora, wrong. Then her loss would be worth it. All of the misery, the mistreatment, none of it would matter when she sat upon the throne of Bright Moon with her foot boring down upon the common folk. Ruled with an iron fist, impressing even Lord Hordak. 

No-- overthrowing.


End file.
